


On Your Side

by taylor_tut



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 15:43:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10722315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: Based on a prompt from my tumblr: Lance and Keith crash on an island and refuse to talk to each other--until Lance spikes a fever. Now Keith wants to help, but Lance hasn't forgiven him for the things he said when he was mad.





	On Your Side

“What the hell are you doing?” Keith called maliciously to Lance, who glared back at him. 

“Building a fire, not like it’s any of _your_  business,” Lance returned with the same amount of venom in his voice. Keith took a few steps closer to the line they’d drawn in the sand to separate Lance’s side of the beach from his own so that they wouldn’t kill each other. 

Keith’s stomach grumbled. He and Lance were supposed to finish this mission pretty quickly and be back by dinner, but _someone_ had to get hit by an asteroid and beeline right in his path and make him swerve to avoid hitting him, resulting in two out-of-commission Lions and two livid paladins. 

Keith had’t been able to find food, but apparently Lance had, since he was starting a fire to cook it. He wanted to ask if Lance would share, but he was much too angry for that.

“Sure hope that’s not poisonous,” Keith teased. 

“What are you talking about?” Lance bit back.

“Whatever you’re cooking,” Keith explained.

“I’m not.”

“Then why are you lighting a fire?”

“Why else? It’s cold,” Lance rolled his eyes. Keith’s eyebrow rose in confusion.

“You’re cold? On a tropical island planet?” 

“The sun went down,” Lance shrugged. Keith could see from where he stood that he was shivering. 

“You’re such a baby,” Keith insulted. Lance held up his most offensive finger and went back to poking at his fire. 

Keith was content to let Lance give him the silent treatment for the rest of the night–hell, if Lance gave him the silent treatment for the rest of the _year_  he’d be nothing but grateful for not having to listen to his lame jokes and relentlss flirting. 

His stomach growled again, so he stood up and went to the edge of the ocean with his bayard in hand, ready to skewer a fish. 

It didn’t take long, and before he knew it, he had three fish in his hands.

“Hey, Lance,” he called, “I’ll give you a fish if you let me use your fire.” Though he still didn’t want to talk to the blue paladin, he _really_  didn’t want to make a fire. Lance was turned away from him, lying on his side close to the fire and shivering. Keith tossed the smallest fish at his face, causing him to bolt upward, coughing and sputtering. 

Keith thought that the coughing sounded a bit too rough and wet for just a reaction to surprise, but he refused to let himself be concerned about _Lance_  of all people right now.

“What the hell, Keith?!” Lance bit, throwing his hands into the air angrily.

“I _said_ , I’ll give you a fish if you let me use your fire.”

“Oh,” Lance sighed, “yeah, sure. Knock yourself out.”

Keith nodded. “That fish is yours, then.”

Lance tossed it back, narrowly missing Keith’s face. “Don’t want it.”

“Consider it a trade for your fire. We don’t have any other food.”

“Not hungry.” Lance turned away from Keith once more, shuddering violently against the perceived cold. Keith huffed in annoyance and began descaling his own fish.

“You’re being a baby about all this,” Keith commented. He’d tried to restrain himself, but seeing Lance turned away, throwing a hissy fit, giving him the cold shoulder was too much. “It’s not like this was _my_  fault.”

Lance didn’t reply. He coughed a few more times into his fist, still not facing Keith. when Keith didn’t get a rise out of him, his anger boiled even further.

“Stop sulking,” he spat, “it’s not flattering.”

“M’not sulking,” Lance returned. He was curled into a small ball, his knees by his chest. “M’cold.” Keith rolled his eyes and shrugged off his jacket, tossing it to Lance. “Keith, no–.”

“If you won’t take the fish, then we’re not even. Take the jacket; I don’t want to owe you any favors.”

“And I don’t want to be the reason you freeze to death here,” Lance replied, sitting up and balling up the jacket, throwing it back at Keith. Now that he was facing Keith, he could see that Lance was pale and sweating, with a pinkish flush to his cheeks and glassy eyes. 

“It’s not even cold,” Keith replied, “so just take the _damn jacket_.” He threw it back at Lance, more aggressively this time, and he hesitated before putting it on over his own. “Of all the people I could have crashed here with, it had to be you,” Keith muttered under his breath. He waited for Lance’s inevitable cheeky remark, and looked up when it didn’t come. Lance was lying on his side once more, looking exhausted and… sad. That was new.

“Well, I’m sorry you’re stuck with me,” Lance tried for irritably, but it sounded more pitiful than anything else. “S’not my fault.”

Keith noted that Lance was slurring his words a little bit. “Not your fault?” he pressed. “So, you just don’t know how to fly in a straight line?”

“No–I–yes–what?” 

“Admit it, Lance; this was boudn to happen because you’re a weak pilot.”

Keith had just meant to anger him, but when Lance started to tear up, Keith wished that he could fit his foot in his mouth. But instead of apologizing like a normal fucking person, not knowing what to do to stop Lance’s tears just made Keith angrier.

“Oh, cool, go ahead and cry,” Keith pressed, “but it’s not going to make you a better pilot.”

“Stop,” Lance protested. He dug his palms into his eyes and winced in what looked like pain.

“No, Lance,” he continued, “you need to hear this. Someone has to tell you, and Shiro’s too nice. You’re clearly the weakest pilot of all of us, and you’re doing nothing about it.”

“ _Please_  stop,” Lance begged.

Keith threw the fish he was cooking onto the sandy beach and stood, towering over Lance to shout. “Sometimes I wonder why you even stay on the team if you know you’re just bringing the rest of us down!” he shouted. Lance flinched. He was crying now, Keith could see, but the fact that he wasn’t fighting back was… troubling. He coughed a few times, hard and breathless.

“Keith, please,” Lance pleaded, “stop yelling. Hurts.” Keith’s anger dissipated immediately. 

“What do you mean; what hurts?”

“M’head,” Lance whimpered. “Just go away.”

Keith took a few steps closer to Lance and rested his hand on his forehead, only to find the skin hot and dry. Great. What he’d just said would have been inexcusable, unforgivable by normal standards–but he’d shouted those horrible things at a near-delirious Lance. He took a steadying breath before continuing.

“Why didn’t you say you were sick?” he asked.

“You were mad,” he slurred.

“I still would have wanted to know.”

“Well, I was mad, too,” Lance said, “Still am. Leave me alone.”

“You can’t be left alone with a fever like this,” Keith explained.

“I can deal with it on my own.”

“Yeah, because that always ends well.”

Lance’s eyes welled up with tears again.

“Okay, I shouldn’t have–I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

“Go _away_ , Keith,” Lance bit. “I don’t want your help.”

“Tough,” Keith shrugged, “You need it.”

“I don’t!” Lance shouted with surprising volume, coughing again to punctuate the exclamation. “Just ‘cause I’m the weakest paladin, doesn’t mean I’m gonna bring everyone else down. I can _deal with it_ on my _own._ Go back to your side.” Lance threw Keith’s jacket back at him once more.

“Come on,” Keith encouraged, “don’t be like that. I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Just because you say you didn’t mean it, doesn’t mean you didn’t say it,” Lance muttered. Keith didn’t know what to do. Lance was still crying, and he clearly wasn’t helping. 

“You’re really sick, Lance,” Keith pleaded, “just let me help. You can be mad at me later.”

“I don’t need help,” Lance spat. “I need you to fuck off.”

Keith hesitated, but figured that he wasn’t going to be able to do anything but make Lance upset, which wouldn’t do anything for his fever, so he dropped it and went back to his side of the beach. He watched nervously until Lance’s breathing evened out and he appeared to be asleep before springing into action, wetting a piece of cloth from the meager first aid supplies in his fanny pack with sea water and laying it over Lance’s forehead. He straightened him out of his curled-up position and lay him flat on the sand, cringing when he started shivering again. All Keith could do was lay his jacket over the blue paladin and wait anxiously for the next time he was coherent enough for him to apologize.

Keith wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he woke up to Lance’s shouts. He grabbed his bayard and blearily stood as fast as he could, weapon drawn, eyes scanning the beach for enemies. 

He didn’t see any.

However, when he looked at Lance, he found that he was still asleep, tossing and turning against a clear nightmare.

“Lance, wake up,” KEith tried, shaking his shoulder. Lance shot up as soon as he was touched, backing away like a cornered animal. “It’s just me,” Keith diffused. He put his sword away. “You okay?”

Lance’s eyes were wide and horrified, not recognizing that the danger had been imaginary. As the adrenaline left his body, tears welled up once more in his eyes and he swiped at them angrily. “M’fine,” he managed. His voice sounded awful. Keith slowly inched closer to him to feel his forehead once more, only to find it even warmer than before.

“Lance, you’re not getting any better,” he worried, but Lance misconstrued his words. 

“I _know_ , you told me that already,” Lance bit. “I train and I train and I train, but I never get any better, and I know I’m dragging everyone down, but I’m _trying_ ,” 

“That’s not what I–Oh, shit, Lance; please don’t cry.”

Lance turned his back to Keith.

“I just meant that you’ve got a fever,” Keith tried. 

“And earlier?”

“I… that was just me screwing up,” he admitted. “I might be a stronger fighter, but I’m lousy at people. You’re good at them.”

Lance didn’t look at Keith.

“That’s why Blue chose you,” he offered. “You hold the team together. We’d all kill each other if you weren’t around to diffuse all our conflicts.”

“Hunk could manage,” Lance argued. 

“Hunk?” Keith laughed. “We’d eat him alive. He’s too pure.”

Lance smiled for a split second before digging his palms into his eye sockets.

“Lance?” Keith asked. “Talk to me.”

“Just a headache,” Lance shrugged him off. 

Keith nodded. “We’ll be home soon. Try to get some sleep.”

Lance turned over and didn’t object when Keith didn’t go back to his side, instead curling up next to Lance’s fever-hot body and closing his own eyes.


End file.
